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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26223184">Crashing Down... Down... Down</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Howlingdawn/pseuds/Howlingdawn'>Howlingdawn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - White Collar Fusion, Angst, Family, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:15:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,469</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26223184</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Howlingdawn/pseuds/Howlingdawn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Six and a half years ago, Special Agent Leonard McCoy finally caught infamous thief and forger Jim Kirk.</p>
<p>Two and a half years ago, the two struck a deal to become the most unlikely of partners, and became the most unlikely of friends.</p>
<p>Six months ago, Jim's eccentric yet brilliant criminal mentor stole a coveted treasure from underneath McCoy and Jim's noses, with the intent of freeing Jim from the F.B.I.'s clutches, giving them the life they had always dreamed of.</p>
<p>Today, Jim turns that future down.</p>
<p>Today, their past threatens to obliterate his present.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James T. Kirk &amp; Joanna McCoy, James T. Kirk &amp; Leonard "Bones" McCoy, James T. Kirk &amp; Montgomery "Scotty" Scott, Joanna McCoy &amp; Leonard "Bones" McCoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Crashing Down... Down... Down</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for startrekkingaroundasgard's 5k writing challenge! My prompt was whump + "I trusted you." Most of the whump... didn't actually make it into this chapter tho. Whoops</p>
<p>(Tiny note: I started headcanoning for WCNS that Jocelyn is Hispanic, and I carried that into this fic)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I’ve been patient, Jimbo, but I need an answer: Do you want to leave?”</p>
<p>Standing in the middle of the loft he rented from Amanda, his glass of scotch weighing heavily in his hand, looking into the eyes of the man who had taken him under his wing when he was a homeless runaway brand new to the city, Jim wanted so badly to say yes.</p>
<p>All of this was supposed to have been temporary, after all. The beautiful loft with a ten-million-dollar view of New York City visible through the glass doors behind Scotty, owned by Spock’s kind yet mischievous mother who had, against all odds, taken Jim into her home and her heart. The job as a criminal consultant for the F.B.I., partnering with Bones and Spock and Uhura to take down the criminals he had once worked alongside. The tracking anklet keeping him penned inside a two-miles radius, a constant reminder that while he may not be in jail, freedom was a dream torturously out of reach. And yet…</p>
<p>It wasn’t exactly the gorgeous tropical island he and Scotty had dreamed of retiring to, but he couldn’t imagine not coming home to the loft at night, to a house brimming with expensive scotch and the warmth of late nights listening to Amanda’s stories and performing the occasional duet with the retired singer. He couldn’t imagine no longer stepping off the elevator on the twenty-first floor in the morning, ready for another day of tracking down criminals with the agents who had become his closest friends. He couldn’t imagine never seeing Joanna again, not getting to attend Spock and Nyota’s wedding, never getting to watch Chekov work his way up from probie to fully-fledged special agent.</p>
<p>Pulling off cons right under Bones’s nose, getting away with heists, stealing beautiful, valuable treasures and reaping the rewards – it had all been such a thrill once, in the years Bones spent chasing him down. But these last months, hiding Scotty’s stolen treasure from him, walking the tightrope between protecting him and keeping his freedom… It had just been stressful. It hadn’t been a marathon to a finish line – it had been day after day after day of waiting for the world to fall apart around him. <em>His </em>world. His <em>home</em>.</p>
<p>His <em>family</em>.</p>
<p>So the answer, though tinged with regret, came easily. “No. There are things about this life I’m not ready to give up.”</p>
<p>Scotty looked away, unsurprised, his disappointment stabbing Jim in the heart. “Do you even know what this life is anymore?” He gestured at Jim’s ankle. “You’re on a leash. Those suits you think are your friends are just waiting for an opportunity to put you back in jail.”</p>
<p>“Bones has helped keep me <em>out </em>of jail.”</p>
<p>“While suspecting you at every turn.”</p>
<p>“Because you stole the treasure!” Jim shot back. “I didn’t want that, Scotty, I didn’t want <em>any </em>of this. You did it without asking, and all the clues you left behind pointed to <em>me</em>. Did you really expect me to be <em>happy </em>about that?”</p>
<p>“Yes!” Scotty exclaimed. “This was our dream, Jim, what we’ve been working towards for nine years! We could be rich, and you could be <em>free</em>.”</p>
<p>“I can always walk out that door, Scotty,” he countered. “But I can’t walk back in. Yes, if I cut this anklet, I could go almost anywhere in the world – but I could never come back here. And that’s not the kind of freedom I want. Not anymore.”</p>
<p>“Well, I guess you’ve made your choice, then, laddie,” Scotty sighed, heading reluctantly for the exit. He paused in the doorway, turning back one last time. “I always thought ours would be a happy ending.”</p>
<p>One of Scotty’s favorite quotes came instantly to Jim’s lips. “If you want a happy ending, it depends-”</p>
<p>“-on where you stop the story. Orson Welles.”</p>
<p>Jim tried to laugh, to smile, <em>something </em>to save the moment, but all that came out was a half-hearted huff that Scotty barely reciprocated. “I, uh…”</p>
<p>Scotty didn’t let him finish. “You’re fooling yourself, laddie, if you think this is who you really are. One day, all of this is gonna come crashing down around you, and you’ll end up back in jail, or… or worse. And that day’ll be sooner rather than later, I’d say.”</p>
<p>The weight of his decision pressed down on Jim’s shoulders, his anklet tightening like a noose. “Scotty…”</p>
<p>“Goodbye, Jim.”</p>
<p>And with that, his oldest friend was gone.</p>
<p>Jim took a deep breath, stubbornly blinking back tears, pulled on his suit jacket, and strode towards his future.</p>
<p>-----</p>
<p>Joanna sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, legs sprawled out, staring at the piles of bio worksheets and notes before her. “Paco, can you be useful for once and eat my homework?”</p>
<p>Flopped down on the couch behind her, the yellow Lab’s only response was a single thump of his tail against the cushions.</p>
<p>From the left came a knock on the door. Grateful for the distraction, she scrambled to her feet, but before she even reached it, the door opened, revealing an unexpected but welcome visitor on the porch. “Jim!”</p>
<p>“Hey, Jo,” he greeted, stepping inside and looking past her towards the kitchen. “What did you cook? It smells delicious.”</p>
<p>“Spaghetti,” she answered. “And there’s plenty for three, if you’re staying.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Jim smiled, more than a touch too softly, too bittersweetly, than the situation seemed to call for. “I’m staying.”</p>
<p>With a pep in her step, she led him to the kitchen, going to pull some bowls out of the cupboard, setting them beside the stove where she had left the spaghetti while she waited for Dad to come home. Jim leaned against the island, picking up a framed photo of the two of them making funny faces. He opened his mouth, ready to say something.</p>
<p>The front door crashed down, and in a split second, the peaceful home was filled with the screams and crashes of a fierce fight.</p>
<p>-----</p>
<p>“-im. Jim!”</p>
<p>Jim bolted awake with a gasp, glass crunching beneath him as he lurched onto his side. “Joanna?”</p>
<p>“She’s gone, Jim.”</p>
<p>Uhura’s hollow voice refused to register with him. “No,” he rasped, ignoring the searing pain in his right shoulder to try to push himself up. “I have to-”</p>
<p>“Easy, Jim,” she warned, helping him to lean back on the cabinets, and pressed a dish towel to his shoulder. “The best thing you can do for her right now is to just tell me what happened.”</p>
<p>The world spun a little, and Jim clenched his eyes shut. “There were… there were two of them. Men. In ski masks. We tried to fight, but one of them…” He held back a wince at the memory. “One of them grabbed a knife, and I hit my head when I fell. I guess they overwhelmed her after that.”</p>
<p>“Two men,” Uhura gathered. “Ok. We can work with that.”</p>
<p>Jim cracked his eyes open, the light sending pain shooting through his head. “Why am I still here?”</p>
<p>Uhura paused, furrowing her brows. “That’s… a good question.”</p>
<p>“Nyota.”</p>
<p>Spock came around the island to join them, gingerly holding Paco’s leash. “Reinforcements are arriving.”</p>
<p>“Ok.” Uhura nodded, taking a breath. “Ok. Let’s get this sorted before we tell Leonard anything. Jim, stay put – I’ll send the medics to you.”</p>
<p>She waited for Jim to take her place applying pressure to his shoulder before joining her fiancé, taking the leash from him and running a soothing hand through the Lab’s fur when he whined softly.</p>
<p>Jim leaned his head back, closing his eyes again, and turned his attention to the question while he waited. <em>Why? Why take her but leave me? What motivation could they-</em></p>
<p>His eyes flew open, a days-old conversation coming back to him in blinding clarity.</p>
<p>
  <em>Scotty burst into Jim’s loft, completely forgoing any pleasantries. “We’ve got a problem.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“We should copyright that phrase,” Jim said, blinking before closing the door.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Scotty barely let him finish the sentence. “Khan is back.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“What?” Jim exclaimed. “He’s got the entire U.S. government and half the criminal underworld looking for him, thanks to that bounty you put on his head.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Exactly,” Scotty said. “So if he’s sticking around, it means he’s planning to do something big. We should split before that happens.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“No,” Jim decided. “We’ll worry about Khan later.”</em>
</p>
<p>A pair of paramedics surrounded him, picking their way past broken glass and debris strewn across the floor to kneel beside him. They set to work, penning him in, sending pain ricocheting through his head and shoulder.</p>
<p>
  <em>One day, all of this is gonna come crashing down around you.</em>
</p>
<p>He saw the flashing lights of squad cars begin to paint the walls. Heard agents and forensics begin to stream inside, Uhura and Spock telling them where to start. Smelled the aroma of the abandoned spaghetti haunting the air.</p>
<p>
  <em>And that day’ll be sooner rather than later.</em>
</p>
<p>-----</p>
<p>Leonard pulled up in front of his house, tires screeching as he slammed on the brakes, the burner phone placed in his car for him to find careening off the passenger seat to the floor, but everything moved in slow motion.</p>
<p>
  <em>I’ve seen the treasure. Your consultant has it.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And you want it.</em>
</p>
<p>He bolted out of the car, barely thinking to grab the phone just in case, dodging around police cars, under crime scene tape, around patrol officers and fellow agents alike, the dark night painted in a blinding pattern of red, white, and blue.</p>
<p>
  <em>I want you to help me steal it.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And why would I do that?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Why don’t you go home and find out?</em>
</p>
<p>He ran up the stairs, all but crashing through the front door.</p>
<p>
  <em>You’re gonna drive yourself crazy, Dad. There’s nothing more to find tonight.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>But there will be, and when the right evidence surfaces… this could all blow up in Jim’s face.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Whatever mess he made, he made it. If it comes out, he’s gonna have to clean it up.</em>
</p>
<p>Spaghetti sauce stained the stove, splashing down the cabinets and to the floor, dark as blood. Spock talked with a group of uniforms, doling out search orders. Nyota, distress clear in her eyes, intercepted him with a gentle hand on his arm. “Your neighbors saw some of it. She was alive when they took her.”</p>
<p>He barely heard her over the thunder of his heartbeat.</p>
<p>
  <em>Come home, Dad. I could use some help with my bio homework.</em>
</p>
<p>“Bones.”</p>
<p>He turned around at the weak voice, and at the sight of Jim’s face, half hidden in shadow, looking back at him with an appalling amount of guilt, time slammed back into normal speed. “He took my daughter,” Leonard rasped, fists clenching at his sides. “Khan took my daughter.”</p>
<p>Nyota’s eyes narrowed slightly, casting a surreptitious glance at their consultant.</p>
<p>Jim took a step closer, into the light, and Leonard’s gaze fell to his torn suit, the bloodstain peeking out from beneath his jacket, his arm held stiffly against his chest. “Bones…” he started, trailing off.</p>
<p>Leonard stepped back.</p>
<p><em>You know, </em>his accusing glare roared, even as he couldn’t quite pull his focus from the kid’s wound. <em>You know damn well why this happened.</em></p>
<p>Nyota spoke, dragging Leonard’s attention away from his criminal consultant. “S.W.A.T.’s been deployed throughout New York, and H.R.T. is on standby.”</p>
<p>Spock joined them. “We have aerial, ground, marine, electronic surveillance, and checkpoints established. We will find her, Leonard.”</p>
<p>“Do you know what Khan wants?” Nyota asked.</p>
<p>It was a simple question.</p>
<p>It should’ve been a simple answer.</p>
<p>But <em>damn it</em>, Jim was behind him, mouth ajar as if still searching for something to say, guilt practically rolling off of him, not to mention the clearly improperly treated injury that had almost certainly been incurred in the fight that had left his house a mess, and <em>damn it all to hell</em>, Leonard still couldn’t just rat him out, not even to Spock and Nyota, not after everything they’d been through. “Jim,” he said through gritted teeth, jerking his head towards the patio.</p>
<p>Nyota’s eyes narrowed further, her mind clearly working a mile a minute, but she let them go, and though Jim kept a slight wary distance, he followed Leonard outside without hesitation. “I tried,” he said, holding his injured shoulder. “I did everything I could-”</p>
<p>“Everything,” Leonard snapped, “except not having that damn treasure <em>in the first place</em>.”</p>
<p>Jim licked his lips, his guilt somehow managing to intensify, making the usually cocky thief shrink before him. “Bones-”</p>
<p>“<em>Don’t </em>call me that,” Leonard snarled.</p>
<p>“I didn’t stea-” Jim tried.</p>
<p>“I don’t care!” Leonard retorted, dropping his voice to a whispered yell at the last second, glancing at the myriad of people inside who wouldn’t hesitate to arrest Jim, barely resisting the urge to reach out and steady the kid when his flinch made him wobble. “You have it, Khan knows, and Joanna is in danger over it. Just give up the damn treasure!”</p>
<p>“I will,” Jim promised in a rush. “I will, B- Leonard. I <em>will</em>.”</p>
<p>The burner phone began to ring. Leonard took a breath, controlling his surging frustration slightly before picking it up. “It’s him,” he told Jim gruffly.</p>
<p><em>“Agent McCoy,” </em>Khan answered without preamble. <em>“If you’re smart – and we both know you are – you’ll keep the F.B.I. off this call.”</em></p>
<p>“I am F.B.I.”</p>
<p>
  <em>“No. You are a man who wants his daughter back.”</em>
</p>
<p>Still where they had left her, Nyota caught Leonard’s eye through the door, and though he longed to trace the call, he held up a hand and faked a smile. She nodded, returning to her conversation with Spock. “Let me talk to her.”</p>
<p>For a long moment, he thought Khan had hung up. Then, finally, <em>“</em>Papá<em>?”</em></p>
<p>Leonard nearly crumpled in relief. “Hi, <em>mija</em>. Are you ok?”</p>
<p>Jim closed his eyes, leaning against the wall, and Leonard couldn’t tell if it was out of relief, pain, or both.</p>
<p><em>“Yeah,” </em>she said, her voice trembling, though she did an admirable job of hiding it. <em>“I kicked this one guy’s ass all the way to Iowa.”</em></p>
<p>Leonard huffed a laugh. “That’s my girl. I’m coming for you, kiddo.”</p>
<p>
  <em>“I know. I lov-”</em>
</p>
<p>The phone barely caught her faint, startled yelp. “Jo?”</p>
<p><em>“You have proof of life,” </em>Khan said. <em>“You have twelve hours to give me Kirk’s treasure. I would hate to kill such a brave girl.”</em></p>
<p>The call cut off.</p>
<p>Slowly, Jim took a breath, pushing himself off the wall. “I know that look. What’d she say?”</p>
<p>Running through the brief conversation in his head, Leonard lowered the phone, turning to Jim. “She could’ve said anything, but she mentioned Iowa.”</p>
<p>“Iowa?” Jim echoed. “What does that-”</p>
<p>“You,” Leonard realized. “That ridiculous picture that she made me frame.”</p>
<p>He darted back inside, beelining for the kitchen, and spotted the picture upside down on the floor, tiny shards of glass peeking out from beneath it. Grabbing a napkin, he carefully lifted it up, and there, in the center of the shattered glass, was a single smear of blood. “Spock!” he yelled. “She got one of them!”</p>
<p>Spock crouched beside him, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. “We will get a blood kit and run a DNA test, and put word out to pharmacies and hospitals for anyone seeking treatment.”</p>
<p>Leonard stood, every fiber of his being longing only to grab Jim by the sleeve and haul him out the door, but he paused. “You should let the paramedics finish treating that.”</p>
<p>“What, this?” Jim forced his arm to straighten, his face going a shade or two paler from the effort. “It’s a scratch. I’m fine.”</p>
<p>“Kirk-”</p>
<p>“I’ll live,” Jim interrupted firmly. “Joanna needs us.”</p>
<p>Unsure if he grabbed Jim’s uninjured arm to steady him or drag him out, Leonard marched them to the car.</p>
<p>“Take me to the treasure.”</p>
<p>-----</p>
<p>Jim fumbled to open the door, cursing the stab wound hindering his movements, and hoped Bones didn’t notice the way his breaths hitched slightly as each step towards the warehouse where Scotty had stashed the treasure sent a minute wave of pain through his shoulder. “You’re not gonna tell the Bureau about Khan?”</p>
<p>“Not yet. He knows our playbook too well. Let Spock and Nyota focus on finding Joanna while we deal with him.”</p>
<p>Bones stopped at the door, shaking his head. “I drive past this building every morning. The treasure’s really in here?”</p>
<p><em>You’ll thank me,</em> Scotty’s note had said when Jim got home the day the treasure was supposedly destroyed. “I didn’t ask for it,” Jim murmured.</p>
<p>“You could’ve walked away.”</p>
<p>“I know,” he said, not mincing words for once in his life. “I should have, but I didn’t. And I should be paying for it. Not Joanna.”</p>
<p>Bones glanced at his shoulder. “Open the door.”</p>
<p>Jim typed in the code with his left hand, letting Bones open the door before following him in, and flipped on the lights.</p>
<p>They lit up an empty room.</p>
<p>
  <em>No.</em>
</p>
<p>“Where is it?” Bones demanded, his voice echoing in the vast darkness between spots of light.</p>
<p>“It was here,” Jim said, moving forward, as if the support columns dotting the massive room could hide pile upon pile of antique gold and priceless art and historic weapons, as if taking a few more steps would reveal the treasure that sat at the center of their mess of a situation. “It was all here, I <em>swear</em>.”</p>
<p>He remembered seeing the treasure for the first time, those precious few moments before reality sank in, walking into the warehouse to find his dream all around him, shining piles standing taller than he did, promising untold riches and excitement.</p>
<p>Now, stopping amidst a small pool of light, his future – Joanna’s future – was as bright as the nigh-impenetrable darkness surrounding them.</p>
<p>“He must’ve moved it already,” Jim realized, hardly daring to whisper the words.</p>
<p>“Who?” Bones demanded. “Scotty? Of course it was Scotty. Call him. <em>Now</em>.”</p>
<p>“I tried,” Jim said, pulling his arm to his chest, guilt driving his racing heart. “In the car, on the way here, I <em>tried</em>. But he’s not talking to me. We- we had a falling out.”</p>
<p>“What, you couldn’t agree on what island to buy?” Bones snapped.</p>
<p>Jim looked at Bones, at the agent who had tracked him for years, at the man who had become the closest thing to a father he’d ever had. “I…”</p>
<p>Words failed him. Words that he had spent so many years learning how to weave to his advantage, how to craft the perfect cover, the perfect explanation, the perfect escape. But what could he say now that would make up for this? When it came down to it, Bones was his handler, and he was a criminal, and Joanna was his only child. <em>I stayed for you</em> would be nothing more than a laughable last-ditch effort to not get thrown straight back in jail.</p>
<p>“I didn’t think he’d move it this fast,” he said instead, pressing his hand to his shoulder.</p>
<p>“Where’d he take it?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know. I <em>don’t</em>,” he insisted at Bones’s disbelieving look. “It’s <em>Joanna</em>. I’m not lying. <em>I don’t know</em>.”</p>
<p>“Damn it, Jim!”</p>
<p>Jim flinched from Bones’s yell, ducking his head as the other man ran his hands through his hair. “Scotty could be anywhere in the world, and we have less than twelve hours to find him.”</p>
<p>“Bones-”</p>
<p>“I said <em>don’t </em>call me that,” Bones cut him off. “The Jim who gave me that nickname was my friend. More than that, he was my <em>partner</em>. I let you into my life, Jim, I let you into my <em>daughter’s </em>life, and now she might- God, I <em>trusted </em>you!”</p>
<p>Jim stopped breathing, the words piercing his heart more effectively than a bullet, more painfully than the knife had pierced his shoulder. “I’ll get her back,” he promised quietly. “Whatever it takes.”</p>
<p>“I-”</p>
<p>Bones trailed off, shaking his head, avoiding Jim’s gaze. “I need air,” he muttered. “And then we need to track down Scotty.”</p>
<p>Jim nodded, staying quiet – anything he could’ve said would’ve been lost in the darkness as Bones swept past him, the shadows not quite hiding the hand he scrubbed across his eyes.</p>
<p>It was only when the door slammed shut behind him, the sound reverberating throughout the empty room, that Jim lowered his hand from his shoulder. Taking a breath, he peeled aside his jacket and shirt, revealing the fresh blood leaking from beneath the meager bandage he had allowed the medics to put on.</p>
<p>He settled the clothes back in place, wiping his fingers off inside the black jacket, and clenched his fist resolutely against the pain.</p>
<p>When this was over, Joanna would be home, and she would be safe.</p>
<p>
  <em>Whatever it takes.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ngl, quarantine's got me messed up, and writing has been ridiculously impossible lately - this is the first chapter of anything I've finished in nearly two months, let alone posted. So while there IS going to be another chapter or two, bc I love Star Trek and White Collar and this AU and refuse to give up on it, I just. Have absolutely no idea when.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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